No Simple Thing
by xmindset
Summary: Inside Troy Bolton's mind is a clutter of events and emotions. "In spite of all the decisions I've made in my life, this has to be the best one... And I don't mind if we take our time." Oneshot. TxG


A/N: Second attempt at a one-shot. It could be boring because there isn't really a central conflict. I tried to use stream-of-consciousness. I tried to not make it cheesy. I think I failed. I think the whole notion sounded better in my head. For some reason, I find it easier to write in a guy's point of view. Funny thing is I hardly know how guys think. I think I've become too much a dreamer. Damn chick flicks. I really don't like them. I like to imagine a guy thinking of me in that way. Nonetheless, please give me some feedback. I haven't written in a long while. Give it to me! Positive or negative! I do not care.

Disclaimer: I had to quote some of the "Fireworks" account. A real guy wrote it on tumblr but when I saw it, it was someone's anonymous tumblr. I reblogged it: http:/abortedbeliefs(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/6999689714/we-boys-dont-get-butterflies-we-get-fireworks I do not own High School Musical or any of the characters affiliated with it. I also do not own some song references to We the Kings [She Takes Me High], Queen [Bohemian Rhapsody], Death Cab For Cutie [Transatlanticism], and Defeater [I Don't Mind]. I do not own nor do I want to own _Dear John_ [Terrible movie by the way. Do not watch it.] but I do want to own _Napoleon Dynamite_. Sadly, I do not.

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><p>...So here I am underneath crisp, white sheets, staring at <em>her<em>.

The light of a new day has hit my left eye as I squint and breathe the salty, fresh air into my nostrils. Nothing—and I mean _nothing_—is better than waking up like this.

In spite of all the decisions I've made in my life, this has to be the best one.

Contemplating. Pondering. Thinking deeply.

I unwind my arm from around her waist, circumspect not to wake her. She quietly and sluggishly stirs.

How the hell did I get this far? I can candidly say I do not know.

I guess it all instigated with friendship. High school. That night.

She was my incentive, so reticent, perspicacious, and astute. In other words, so _out of my league_. But I could care less. Although I knew of my obvious inferiority, that was not an obstacle in mind. I was a decent student with all A's but a couple of B's, here and there. I'd say I had a chance with the smart girl.

God, I'm so glad I took that chance. I wouldn't be here where I am today, right _here_.

Contemplating. Pondering. Thinking deeply.

We seem insular in this room, cut off from the world.

To me, she is perfection. Pragmatic, adroit, cosmopolitan, autonomous. An erudite who expresses altruism, a soulmate, a best friend, a complement who keeps me grounded, calm, composed.

And sometimes, she can be the craziest, most psychotic bitch. But I don't give a fuck. I _love_ her. Nothing can mar her perfection. Nothing can eradicate her from my life. _Nothing_.

.-.

Girls say they get butterflies when they are in love. I do not know if Gabriella got butterflies when she fell in love with me. I never asked her. All I know is I loved her first. Yes, yes I did.

Do boys get butterflies? No. I confess we do not. We get fireworks. Yes. _Fireworks_.

No, we don't think about you, girls, all the time. You are not constantly on our minds. You are constantly _in our hearts_.

That moment when you just steal a brief glance at us, our hearts skip a beat. That moment when you get online, or send that rare text or tweet, you give us premature ventricular contractions.

When you talk to us, we give you a glimpse of a smile. That famous half-smile. We're showing you a glimpse of happiness, but we do not want to show it. Yet, we fail to hide it. We think of every word you say. Examine it, trying to decipher a message. We're just as much as confused about you as you are confused about us.

Once we begin to love a girl, there is no turning back. "No matter how hard we try we will always love a girl who has touched us. We'll think of that girl first thing in the morning, and right before we sleep at night. Whenever we see a couple, our thoughts immediately jump to that girl, and imagine that the couple would be us. We love _everything_ about her: the way she walks, talks, speaks. The sound of her voice. Her laughter. The sparkle in her eyes. Her shy smile. The way she dresses. That cute face she makes when she is asleep. And the way she says our name that our hearts just explode with mirth, a simple act that no one else can replicate."

"A boy in love with a girl is no simple thing, though ladies stereotype us guys as simple. A man in love is not simple. No. He will be unpredictable. He will be persistent, stubborn, and given the circumstances, if it means carrying you from one side of the world to the other to win your heart, a man in love would. He will be a martyr, giving his all and asking for almost none. He will show you how to appreciate the beauty of the world in a thousand ways, and then he will tell you how much he appreciates your beauty in a million ways."

"_A man in love is no simple thing."_

.-.

A moan interrupts my thoughts. I look to my right. Her lips part and her hand lazily moves over to rest on my chest, right over my heart.

My arm reaches over and winds around her tiny waist. I pull her closer and kiss the top of her head.

"Troy?" she asks in a questioning manner but in a drowsy voice.

"Mhmm. Who else would it be?" I chuckle and nuzzle her hair.

She giggles with her eyes closed and gives me her winning, golden smile. My half-smile slowly grows to reach my ears. _She takes me high. __She wakes me up. She breaks me down. She's got me ten feet off the ground._ I swear.

I tighten my hold on her waist and shower her with little kisses all over the side of her neck. The most glorious sound is evoked from her throat. I can't but smile as I absent-mindedly tickle her with my kisses.

I stop to quickly peck her lips. Her arms find their way around my neck as our noses touch.

Yeah, I am _so high_.

A look on her face and the narrowing of her eyebrows display her sense of a disturbance. I trace the line of her vision to my arm.

"What's that? I've never noticed it before." she asks quietly. Her right index finger traces the wide scar on my arm.

"A scar. A bullet grazed my arm. If I was standing a foot to my left, I wouldn't be here right now."

Her soft hand rubs my shoulder and her lips touch the center of my scar.

"I was scared as fuck for you then.." her words trail off. Her voice grew quieter when her sentence reached the profanity, causing me to hide a small smirk.

"Yeah. I was scared too. I told you. Remember?"

"I remember. You did it because it was your grandpa's dream, right—to follow in his footsteps?"

"Yeah. I don't know if I regret it or not."

"Don't regret anything...because at one point you wanted it," she states like a sage.

She hugs my torso with her thin arms and kisses the side of my neck. I do the same to her. She laughs but her expression quickly transitions to a serious one again.

"You know... I prayed for you," she speaks clearly but looks and caresses my arm.

"Thank you," I kiss her forehead tenderly and tuck a stray hair behind her ear, "You're probably the reason I'm here then... And thanks," I reiterate, "for waiting for me."

I served for two years in the army, right after I graduated from college. I was sure I was going to do it but at the same time I was not. But I was scared. Of dying. Little did I know that the military during war consists of a lot of time in between battles. It gets very monotonous. Battles and bombings are more intense than they sound or what you may think of them as. Right after the bullet grazed my arm I knew that I was blessed. And I missed her like hell.

"Hey, you waited for me too," she smiles, "It was worth it."

"Mmmm," I mumble, "I agree."

"Your voice is so sexy in the morning, right when you wake up," she indiscriminately says.

I laugh, causing my body to lightly shake along with hers. She beams at me.

"Oh really?" I reply disbelievingly.

She nods.

"You're perfect," I whisper in her ear.

"Thank you," she whispers back, "but I do not agree with you."

"Well, name one flaw or thing you don't like about yourself."

"I don't have pretty eyes like yours."

"What? That's not a flaw. You have beautiful eyes."

She giggles sarcastically. "Thanks but I wish my eyes were more unique. Like a peridot green or aquamarine... Your eyes are a grayish blue but the color gets lighter as it approaches your pupil with hints of sea green."

I pause for a second. "I've never been told that. Nor have I ever heard an in-depth analysis of my eye color," I chuckle softly. "Thank you... but I like your eyes. You have chestnut eyes and they kind of have gold rims to them."

She shrugs with a soft smile and stretches her arms out, making oblivious sex sounds that drive me crazy every time.

"You were making those same sounds last night," I mumble.

"What?" she asks innocently.

"Nothing," I turn over, face down on my pillow.

"I heard you," she smirks as she raises an eyebrow.

I chuckle into the pillowcase.

Before I know it, she's on my back, laughing uncontrollably.

"I was not!" she almost-yells in laughter.

"Yeah. You were also screaming out 'Troy' so fucking loudly. You're lucky we got a villa. If we were at a hotel, we would be kicked out," I chuckle mischievously.

"You're ego is way too huge," she rolls her eyes.

"And by that you mean my dick," I wink at her.

She gapes at me with incredulous eyes.

In a flash of a second, she's wrestling me again. I let her win eighty percent of the time. I never hurt her. I never will.

She gets on top of me but fails as I flip her over. I imitate her growling sounds mockingly as she shouts that she does not sound like my mimicry. She totally does.

Next, she crawls out from under me and locks me in a half nelson. I can easily escape but I don't.

She jeers, "Tap out! Tap out!"

I amusingly tap out twice, surrendering myself before she victory-dances. While she is distracting herself, I swiftly grab her from behind and thus, commences round two.

.-.

She falls asleep again. I won that match. Winking face.

Sometimes, she scares me. How can someone be _that perfect?_

Sometimes, I ask myself if she's even real. Genuine. Tangible. True to life. Am I dreaming? Is this all a hoax? Will I wake up in thirty minutes? Will I find myself in paradise? Is she _real_?

How can a person that bewitching... be real? _Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?_

Contemplating. Pondering. Thinking deeply.

How did we find each other? Was it fate? Was it fate that my wife was my first love. My first kiss. My first date. My first romantic relationship. And last night, my first—and her first—time.

I try with all my might to stop asking questions. Ridiculous questions. But I can't seem to bring myself to stop.

Sometimes, it seems too good to be true. Am I dreaming?

Never mind. Whatever. I have no regrets, nevertheless. She is mine. I am hers. That is all that matters, right?

Have I gone _mad_? Nah. I'm just a man in love.

Contemplating. Pondering. Thinking deeply.

.-.

I glance at the digital clock that sits on the nightstand. It is only nine in the morning. Time passes slowly when I'm with her. Time freezes when our skins touch, when we kiss, when she speaks.

I got lucky. I'm blessed. God is good to me. I just hope that everything stays that way.

I don't want to lose her ever again. Ever. Never. Never again.

Those two years are but a myth now. Now that we're together. Permanently. Forever.

But we all know that forever does not really last forever. Well then, we'll be together till the end of my days. Maybe even in heaven. Yeah. That sounds good.

She does not have to worry about a thing. I've got her. She's mine. All mine.

.-.

Her eyes flutter open once more. She looks bewildered. How sweet.

"Hmm.. Are you hungry?" her groggy voice returns.

"A bit," I say.

"Have you been watching me this whole time? Again?"

"Yes. You're quite entertaining when you're sleeping. Know that?"

"It's a little creepy, not gonna lie."

I chuckle and kiss just above her breasts. "Can we lay here forever?" I ask, "I love you. So much."

"I love you too.. but I don't want to be a bum all day," she retorts.

My shirt hangs off her tiny frame, revealing one bare shoulder. I catch a glimpse of her underwear as she slips off the bed, and I follow her into the bathroom. She hands me my toothbrush, grabs hers, and squeezes one strip of toothpaste on each. She finishes brushing her teeth before me. I kiss her cheek with lips full of toothpaste. She scolds me and I spit in the sink, rinse, and clutch her waist. I fight her resistance and carry her. She flops onto the bed, looking at me with those eyes. Those chestnut, gold-rimmed eyes. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. She's looking into my soul. I hope she likes what she sees. I have no secrets after all. I just _love_ her.

I look back into her soul. She has to be real. She must. She is my other half. The object of my affection. Three words escape her lips. I say them more than she does. It is almost a rarity when she says them.

"_I love you_," she utters almost silently.

I smile, lay down next to her, and hold her close. In reality, I need her so much closer. She is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh. I'll never leave her. Never. I won't let us end up like my parents did. Now, they each have their own respective partners. I have two step-families. It is awkward but I have gotten used to it throughout the years. I can't imagine love coming to a halt. How can you just wake up one day and decide or realize that you do not love him or her? Love is supposed to be unconditional.

But what is love? You may think love is like Romeo and Juliet's story. I do not believe that bullshit. That is infatuation, lust. You cannot just look at a person and know you are in love, although you may think it. You may feel butterflies or fireworks when you first look into their eyes. I don' t think that's love. That is being absorbed by another's appearance and feeling jittery.

Does love mean the willingness to die for another? It could. Maybe.

But what I think love is...is desiring what is best for another. I love _her_. I want what's best for her.

But what do I know? I'm just a man in love.

.-.

"Are you sure you do not want breakfast yet? Usually, right now you would eat anything you can get your hands on," she says solicitously.

"I'm sure," I reply while hitting the power button on the remote.

"Okay," she drags out the 'A' sound and cuddles up to my chest. "I'm starting to worry about you." She runs a hand through my hair and holds me close. "You are really quiet this morning. Are you alright?"

I give her a reassuring smile. "I'm fine, babe. I'm just thinking."

"About...?" she nosily inquires.

"About a lot of things," I say with ennui while staring at the television.

"Like what?" The television does not seem to interest her at all. Her body faces me.

"Like how I attempted to make you fall in love with me... stuff like that."

She blinks twice. I catch a loose eyelash on the side of her cheekbone and hold it before her lips. Her lips form a perfect tiny 'O'. Her eyes close. She makes a wish and blows.

"Don't let your mind run in circles, Troy," she says while playing with my fingers, "I will always... always love you. I mean that."

Time freezes again.

I pat my lap and she sits facing me. I kiss all over her face until she begs me to stop. _Bliss_.

I looked into her eyes again. _Captivation_.

"You scare me," she mutters.

"Hmmm..That's funny. You scare me too."

Her hands wander into my hair. I love it when she does that. Then again, I seem to love everything about her. And I do.

I turn over on my back again and close my eyes.

.-.

I can tell her everything and anything. Words come easy and I don't have to think when we talk... even in the most perilous or the most confusing times.

Right after the years I spent at Duke and she at Brown, I went into the army. I still can't remember if I was sure or not. I do not think I was. We talked about it. I did not change my mind. She was okay with it.

_A few years ago..._

"So...I'm gonna do it," I stated simply.

"Seriously?" she asked slowly, almost cautiously.

"Yeah.. It was always my grandpa's dream, or whatever, that I follow in his footsteps.."

She revealed a small smile. "Aw. Well, if it makes you happy, then go for it."

I let out a breath and tried to laugh it off. "Ha..." I released a fake laugh, "...I'm scared," I said, trying to avoid her eyes.

"I'm sure you're not the only one," she said, rubbing my back, "I would. I'd be scared as fuck...but you're absolutely sure, right? You _want_ to do this," she said. Her statement seemed more like a question, unsure of whatever the answer—my answer.

"I am sure..." I said, trying to convince myself, "but then it's like I'm not. You know?"

"Yeah. I guess," she replied as she let out a sigh, "It's a big decision, Troy. Make sure you know what you want though. I know it's your grandpa's dream but you have to be sure you want it too. I'm not trying to dissuade you, honest. Think about it though."

She always knew what to say. She still does. And so, I finally looked up to meet her stare. She looked at me with those eyes. And she smiled. It was a bit of a melancholy smile. Of course, I wouldn't forget about her.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just...confused and all."

So we wrote letters to each other while she was in medical school. Sometimes, we would go months without replies. But we were used to that. College was already a long distance relationship in itself. Some people cannot handle long distance relationships. But I know her. She knows me. The trust is still there. She would never do what Savannah did in _Dear John_. Yes, Gabriella told me about the shitty ending. I did not watch it. I swear.

When I would be on leave, we would be inseparable. Nothing could or would disrupt our time together. The days would fly by fast though. Soon, I would be on a plane again...

.-.

I still remember our first date.

After staying friends for nearly two and a half years, and I finally mustered up the courage to ask her out the late summer of the beginning of junior year. She wore a floral dress that flowed around her. It quietly swished as she walked. I thought she was probably the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I knew I _wanted_ her.

I finally convinced my dad to let me drive his most prized possession—a 1974 BMW 3.0 CS. It was bright cherry red with leather interior. My dad would constantly check up on it in the garage and polish it. He would drive it early in the morning when no one was on the road. He would take that baby to car shows which would reveal his ostentatious side. I secretly hope he will let me have it one day. It's my dream car.

I took her out to dinner at a local small cafe in the downtown area. Then, we took a walk around the populated night time of the city. God, I thought she was an angel. I payed close attention to every little word she said, trying to figure out if she actually felt the same way. I noticed how she would blush when our fingers would "accidentally" touch. I noticed how she would tuck a hair behind her ear after every time she laughed. I noticed how she would rub her arms and shoulders when she felt timid or nervous. I noticed how cute her little nose was when she giggled, or when she did not like what she smelled or saw.

We went window shopping and just generally enjoyed the atmosphere of the locals there as we walked the sidewalks of the moderately busy city. Then afterwards, I took her to one of those drive in movies that they still had in town at the time. We watch a cute, old movie in my dream car. I don't remember the name of the movie. I always scold myself for forgetting it. Gabriella knows. She always shakes her head and laughs whenever I ask her about it. After, she asked me to stay with her and rest for a little while at her place. We climbed up her tree to the balcony of her bedroom. No sex was involved, just snuggling. I credit myself with the idea of that amazing first date. It was perfect. Oh yeah.

We woke up early in her bed around five in the morning. She snuck downstairs, careful not to wake her mom. She brought us back some toasted bread and nutella. Then, I left for home. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Well, except for the name of that damn movie. I have to ask her again.

To be honest, I did not know I was in love yet. I did not love her yet. I don't think so. But I was in love before I knew it. There was no going back.

.-.

"Troy? Troooy? Stop falling asleep," she giggled.

"I'm not sleeping. I'm thinking with my eyes closed."

I felt a weight on my chest. I opened my eyes to see her straddling me.

"We should eat soon. I don't understand why you are not hungry. It's quite odd of you," she says, cocking her head to one side.

"Meh," I say closing my eyes again.

"Meh? That's all you have to say? Get up. Get up," she repeats while galloping on my chest.

"What are you doing? Hey. That hurts," I stoically say with my eyes still closed.

"Let's eat. Please. I think they offer free breakfast near the front desk or something."

"Mhm."

"Let's go. I don't enjoy watching bad television."

"I could sit all day and watch bad television with you," I say plainly.

"You're not even watching."

"I'm listening."

She scoffs and attempts to get off me. I'm not going to lie. I like to piss her off sometimes. She is the most adorable creature. I grab her thighs before she tries to stand on the bed. She squeals. She is very ticklish. I know all the places. It is quite entertaining actually.

She loses her balance and clumsily falls on the bed. I quickly position myself on top of her and our noses touch. We simultaneously smile and I kiss her lips slowly and sweetly. I grab her waist with one arm in a sweeping motion. Her hands wander into my hair again. I love when she does that. I think she has figured out how to turn me on already.

She lets out small moans as our lips battle. Ugh. That drives me crazy. Fuck. It makes me want to...to make love to her a thousand times. I aspire to be the best husband. I want to have kids with her. Build a family with her. Have as many kids as she wants. I'll do it. I want to. I need her. I need her more than she needs me.

Her hands find their way to my back as I attack her neck with my lips. We need to stop soon. We should really eat. She giggles and pecks the side of my neck. To my dismay, she pulls away. Her lips part. Before she can say anything, my stomach growls wildly. She smiles silently and raises her eyebrows. She looks at me in disbelief. She bites her lip. I poke it with my index finger. I chuckle and take the remote to turn off the television.

"Okay. I'm hungry. You win," I indolently sigh.

"Yes," she says moving her arm like the way Kip does in _Napoleon Dynamite_ with the matched expression.

I scoot over to the edge of the bed, stand and stretch, letting out a murmuring sound and a yawn.

"You make lovely sex sounds too," she says behind me, letting out a sigh.

I glance back at her and wink. "Thank you, Mrs. Bolton." I prop up some pillows then head over to the dresser and begin to open some drawers.

She hops of the bed and stretches as well. "Want to shower first?" she asks with a naughty smirk. Sexy.

I grin back, jog over, and take her into my arms. She giggles angelically and winds her arms around my neck.

Even though she solidly disagrees with me, I think she's perfect. She's perfectly imperfect or imperfectly perfect, if that makes sense. She's perfect to me. She's my world, my everything as corny and cheesy as it sounds. She made me the happiest man in the world when I gave her my hand and she took it. No other girl has her smile, her legs, and those eyes. A man in love is no simple thing. I'm all hers if she's all mine. _And I don't mind if we take our time._

_And I don't mind,_

_If we take our time,_

_'Cause I'm all yours_

_If you're all mine._

_- Defeater,"I Don't Mind"_

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><p>AN: Sorry if there are any grammar mistakes. Please inform me. Not sure how I arrived at this. It was really random. I woke up and thought about the general idea. Everything else pieced itself together into this jumbled mess. I stole some of the dialogue from my conversation with my best friend.


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